


love is actually probably bullshit unless it isn't

by orphan_account



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Drinking, Gay Bullshit, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Not Beta Read, dumbass gays, not edited at all actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 10:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18619096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: See, the Bullshit, he knows what it is. It’s vaguely there in the back of his mind taunting him, inexplicably dressed in jorts and a smart button up shirt like it knows what he’s into. It’s the most terrifying thing on the face of the planet, and Pat’s faced death in the face many times since he started at the office. The Bullshit isn’t just a strawberry, it’s a strawberry coated in latex with a post-it note drawing of Brians face stuck onto it upside-down.





	love is actually probably bullshit unless it isn't

**Author's Note:**

> Hello yes new fandom hello
> 
> If anyone in this fic is looking at it, please don't.
> 
> Also I have never edited a fic in my entire goddamn life and like hell i'm gonna start with this one

He doesn’t like it. 

_Bullshit_ , he prefers to think of it as. Love, Simone reminds him every time he texts her about how he thinks he’s having a heart attack and, yes, she is the first person he texts in emergencies, and, no, it isn’t Brian because it’s always Brian’s goddamn fault. 

-

One time, when Pat was so drunk he thought the moon was somewhere in Brian’s eyes, he tried to suck the moon out with his mouth. Wasn’t a kiss, nope. He’s in a happy relationship with Papa John’s, thank you very much. 

-

“You’re a dumbass,” Simone tells him once over drinks as he complains about how hot Brian looked that day. Not, like, hot. Just hot, because it’s almost eighty and the guy was in a full three-piece suit for the new Unraveled shoot smiling and going on like normal while Pat was literally dying in the corner because _Brian come on you’re going to get heatstroke no stop taking your jacket off oh god fuck don’t look over here oh god why_.

And Pat just takes another long sip of his beer, because it’s shit beer for a shit man with the weirdest fucking medical conditions in the world, and he says, “Who the fuck wears a vest in July?”

And she just gives him a long look, shakes her head, and tries talking him into moving onto another bar. But he stopped paying attention as soon as Brian texted him, something about Zuko. Selfie. Fuck. 

-

See, the Bullshit, he knows what it is. It’s vaguely there in the back of his mind taunting him, inexplicably dressed in jorts and a smart button up shirt like it knows what he’s into. It’s the most terrifying thing on the face of the planet, and Pat’s faced death in the face many times since he started at the office. The Bullshit isn’t just a strawberry, it’s a strawberry coated in latex with a post-it note drawing of Brian David Gilbert’s face stuck onto it upside-down. 

-

_Dinner friday?_ is the first text. 

Pat, who is happily doing dishes, almost drops the plate into the sink and immediately feels the Bullshit start its shitty little tapdance. His hands are shaking a bit, and it’s either anxiety or a seizure. And he knows which he’d prefer.

_**Yes**_ is all he sends back before tossing his phone onto the couch, almost nailing Charles in the head, and shoving his hands back into the soapy water before they can force him to go grab it and immediately text Simone. It’s not like Brian wouldn’t immediately text her, knowing the two of them, but Pat also needs to scream at both the Bullshit and this one stain in his favorite mug that won’t fuck off. 

It’s a bit later when he steels himself and goes to check his phone. 

_:)_

And he immediately drops his phone, slumps his way onto the couch, and puts his hands over his face and groans.

-

The first time he felt the Bullshit was sometime in the Splatoon stream. It wasn’t anything special, Brian just bumped his arm, but it was enough to give birth to a little monster that would make its home in Pat’s chest and never leave. 

And he thought it was nothing. But, no, nothing is ever nothing when it comes to Brian David Gilbert. The two of them made eye contact in the break room a couple of days later and Pat felt his entire body start to freeze up, the Bullshit pulling out its aerobics dvds and getting to work. 

And, two weeks later, Brian stopped by Pat’s desk for, now that he thinks about it, no apparent reason, and Pat felt his entire head turn to cotton and he accidentally clicked something wrong and maybe accidentally screwed up two hours of work. But it was fine. Because, now that he thinks about it, that one was probably actually a stroke and not the Bullshit migrating north. 

And, when they go out for coffee a month or so later, the Bullshit never stopped doing its marathon training. But that one was fine, because Pat didn’t fuck up anything. He did very well on the thing that absolutely was not a date because, again, Papa John’s. He paid, and they sat together on the subway back to the office, and maybe they sat too close together. But that one was on Brian. 

Holding hands on the subway back to the office after their twelve coffee not-date was absolutely Pat’s fault, and he still doesn’t know how Brian could deal with a Bullshitty, sweaty, gross hand. But they didn’t stop until they reached the lobby. 

And they didn’t stop two days later on a Friday as they left work to hang out at Pat’s place and probably shoot zombies and probably eat some sweet ‘zas. And they did do all of those things, and it was fun. And nice. And amazing and perfect and beautiful and the best night of his life. Or, rather, the Bullshit’s short, short, miserable, short life. 

Because the Bullshit isn’t him. It isn’t his, never was, never will be, and, as soon as he figures out how, he’s going to get rid of it, even if it means cutting his own damn chest open and scooping it out with a measuring cup. (Even if it means he won’t feel as...nice around Brian.)

-

“I’m not gay,” he tells himself in the mirror Friday morning before work. He nods and briefly wonders if there isn’t an eat-in Papa John’s to take Brian to before shaking himself and grabbing his bag and leaving. 

“I’m not gay,” he tells himself in the bathroom mirror Friday morning as he hides there for the tenth time since Brian came in two hours ago. He nods and briefly wonders if Brian’s shirt really matches his eyes or if it was just the light before shaking himself, slapping some water onto his face with more force than was probably necessary, and going back out with the full intention of finishing a video before noon. 

“I’m not gay,” he tells himself in the mirror Friday afternoon after deciding that, yeah, one video was enough for the day when he’s feeling this sick. He nods and briefly wonders if Brian’s dealing with the same Bullshit, feeling the same way, feeling the same flips and turns and squeezes and churns his internals are making before shaking himself, washing his hands, and going back out with a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Hey,” Brian says that night as they’re getting ready to leave. Or, well, Pat’s getting ready. He’s been slow all day. And he knows why, because Brian hasn’t stopped smiling all day, and the only thing brighter than Pat’s screen setting is Brian David Gilbert’s smile. 

The Bullshit leaps into Pat’s brain and opens his mouth for him, takes over his brain, because all he can say to that is, “I’m gay.”

And, as he reddens and ducks back down to gather the rest of his shit, he hears Brian’s laugh. “Well, I sure hoped so.”

And Pat feels the Bullshit sort of...dissapate for a moment, just long enough for him to gather his thoughts and everything and glance up at Brian (who’s looking away, biting his lip, shoving his hands into his pockets, looking like he wants to say something, looking--) and smile. And Brian? He smiles back. 

-

Pat gives into the Bullshit that night as they have dinner, as they go to Brian’s apartment afterwards to talk about video ideas, how they quickly abandon that and go to hang out on the fire escape as soon as Brian’s roommates come home and see Pat and immediately start talking about how Pat must be that mysterious Pat Gill Brian always talks about and as soon as Pat realizes that, yeah, Brian shares the Bullshit. So they go out and talk and play Uno and the Bullshit doesn’t rear its ugly head. Because Pat doesn’t feel it anymore. He feels something different. 

He feels love.


End file.
